My Past, Your Present, Our Future
by MareG8
Summary: The WAR has come and gone, Voldie is dead. But where is Harry? One minute he was there in the hospital, the next he was gone. 6 yrs later SS finds himself taking care of a certain young man who is supposedly dead. Time Travel. SSxHP
1. Prologue: Naked

**Prologue: Naked**** (****ney**-kid)

_ Bare, __stripped, __or __destitute._

_ Defenseless; __unprotected; __exposed._

_**September 7th 2003**_

_Four years have passed, it has been four years since I returned. Timmy is an extremely intelligent child; he is very lively, happy and too inquisitive for his own good. He is the only spot of light in my dark, disaster ridden life; the only reason I continue to live through life's tedious motions. I still haven't paid HIM a visit; he doesn't know we have a son. Imagine his reaction upon finding out. I hope he takes it kindly, when the time comes. I would have told him that Timmy was his, but I don't think he would have believed me. Just imagine someone coming to you and telling you that they have given birth to your son. Keep in mind that said person is one you despise, and have despised ever since the day they set foot in Hogwarts. Personally, I wouldn't take it too kindly. Frankly, I think I might hex them into next week. Knowing that this is the way I might react, how can I ask of HIM, of all people, to understand?_

_Six years ago, I would have done it, tell him I mean, just to see the look on his face. To see his shields fall, his eyebrows furrow slightly, showing too much emotion is deemed unseemly by any and all Slytherins after all, and seeing those lips I still dream about, purse in confusion and disapproval over feeling something as degrading as confusion. Especially since it is caused by a mere Gryffindor, and one not so bright in HIS opinion._

_I digress. What was I saying earlier? Oh, yeah! Timmy, my son. He of course has had a few incidents where accidental magic has come forth to grace us. Nothing too dangerous, just a few blown pots and jars, and a little more broken windows, and just a bit more burned miscellaneous objects, some of which are of dubious origins. But he wouldn't have been my son, or HIS, if he didn't exhibit accidental magic when he is experiencing somewhat strong emotions. Those bouts are not so rare but quite far in between._

_**September 21st 2003**_

_I miss HIM more and more each and every day. You might think the ache would dull over time, but do not delude yourself; no such thing happens. The pain is always there; an ever-present reminder of what I have momentarily, and maybe eternally, lost. After four years of self enforced celibacy, not that I have felt attracted to anyone and had suppressed it! But I know that if that had happened I still wouldn't have acted on it. I still love him, I always will._

_Even now after four years I still wear that ring he gave me, a thin, wide black band made of a metal I have long forgone the search for its identity, with an intricate silver star engraved on the inside._

_I haven't seen him since I returned. It has been four years. I have escaped the Wizarding World since then. I wanted to be away, needed to be away. I have left my friends, as little of them as I still have, without a word of farewell. I know they looked for me, and looked extensively. But I could never bring myself to return. I don't think that I will ever be ready to return, even when the time comes when I can see him again without being shunned. How am I ever to know if he will still want me? Especially since I have changed quite significantly since last we met. But the wait is near over, four years have passed and less than six months are left before I can confront him knowing that I could possibly stand a chance._

_I chose to raise my son in Muggle London, secluded from the Wizarding World... I chose Muggle London for many reasons, one of which is I'm a nobody here, you might argue that I could have been a nobody in somewhere as ungodly secluded as Australia or Alaska (no offense intended). But my argument for my choice would be that I can't chance being recognized by the Wizarding population there, and frankly I don't think I could bear to uprooted so, leaving the Wizarding world is one thing, but leaving Britain altogether is quite another. I also believe that my son should know as much of the Muggle culture as is possible while still retaining his Wizarding status, wizards after all do tend to undermine the true power the Muggles hold._

_I must leave now, or I will be late picking Timmy up from school..._

_**September 24th 2003**_

_Timmy is sleeping, he seems to be exhausted. I had enrolled him in what Muggles term grade school, or elementary school, I'm not so sure. They had accepted him even though he is, at four, a year younger than his peers, they had no choice after he sailed through whatever tests they could produce for children his age and even a year older, but it had been decided that he should at the very least spend the beginning of his education amongst children whose ages did not surpass his by no more than two years. _(I am unsure as to the age children are admitted into grade school in Britain, it should be either five or six, but for the sake of this story, let's assume it's six)

_Their schedule and activities seem to be quite eventful, because my son comes home tired, does his homework, if he has any, talks about his day incessantly, then plays, fatigue doesn't seem to thwart him from terrorising me and vandalising our home, until dinner time comes, which is not a specific time due to who his parent is, ahem. After which he just collapses into a deep slumber._

_Anyways, I'm thankful he's asleep. I don't want him to see me when I'm in this state of emotional undress. I have already gone through a bottle of Muggle whisky, with another bottle of brandy rests on the floor, beside me, halfway empty. Today marks the day Voldemort decided to raid Hogwarts seven years ago. The day so many died because of me, because I was unable to save them and finish him off from the start, or at the Department of Mysteries two years before that, or at the graveyard for that matter. I know I won the war, but I am no hero. I am the man who was the reason for the murders of so many, and the torture of many more, what kind of hero is that?_

_Every year, at this time, I would feel this pain. It never lessens or ceases. When I was with HIM it wasn't so bad. It was as if we lived in a world of our own making, secluded from everybody else. While I was there, he was my rock. He had lived with his feelings for a longer time, and had come to peace with how he feels towards the war, the losses both sides had suffered and his role in it all. He repeatedly told me that it wasn't my fault that all those people died, that even if I had died and Voldemort lived he would have still killed, he would have probably killed even more, only then nothing and no one would have been able to stop him. As for those of my friends I had lost, whenever I told him that their death was my fault, that no matter what is said, they made the decision to stand beside me in battle, to fight for their freedom against a tyrannical megalomaniac._

_For a long time I believed him, I believed all he had said. After all, I had no reason to think it false. But about a year after my return, even though I tried my best to cling to those beliefs, I lost the battle. I had returned to a world just out of war, still doing its best, struggling to rise from the ashes, to reassume its role as a formidable entity. I had returned to a world where people loved me for saving them, hated me for the death of their loved ones, and constantly questioned my whereabouts._

_I made sure no one knew who I was, or that I had returned. I moved to Chelsea, acquired a subscription to the post so I could keep informed of my world's happenings, sent my friends a letter telling them that I am safe and settled, but I will stay away, to come to term with all that has happened...they accepted my self-enforced isolation, albeit with reluctance, and I acquired a new Muggle identity._

_I finally got the anonymity I have been seeking since my first day in the Wizarding World..._

_**September 25th 2003**_

_I am positively drunk. A friend of mine, Laura, has taken Timmy for the week. She has a daughter a year older than Timmy, and they are really close. I just hope that their friendship will survive his induction into the Wizarding World..._

_Laura knows that I face difficulty getting through this time of the year. I believe that she has her suspicion that I had had a traumatic experience around this time before Timmy's birth. Thus the sleepover. She takes Timmy away to give me time to sort through my memories, to mourn whatever it is she believes I'm mourning._

_She is currently my closest friend and confident. She knows that I am decidedly gay, and that Timmy is my biological son. I still remember the first time she heard Timmy ask me about his 'other Daddy', the look on her face will forever be printed in brain. She looked so surprised and confused, and then somewhat hurt, hurt that I hadn't confided in her. After I told Timmy that his 'other Daddy' lived far away, but is always thinking of him, he went back to play with Amy, Laura's daughter, a smile adorning his face; he always did. I then turned around to take care of that hurt expression that had clouded Laura's face a while before. I told her that we were currently separated, in terms of living space at least, that my 'boyfriend' was sequestered in some cabin in a remote area conducting research; research that had kept him away from us for some time past and for some more to come. She had nodded, but I knew she hadn't understood why two people would separate for years but still remain together, she didn't believe it possible for a relationship to endure separation for the length of time and distance mine had. I could tell that she understood my unwillingness to explain further, she had grudgingly accepted that there were things in my life I couldn't explain to her. And ever since whenever the subject of Timmy's 'other Daddy', or 'Papa' as he had come to call him of late, comes up an amusement would flit across her face and her eyes start twinkling, especially if other people are around, namely the parents of the kids in our children's class._

_As for the matter of my son's conception. Laura believes that he was conceived at the stage where I was 'confused and experimenting', her words not mine, and that my girlfriend at that time had left me never to come back to look for her son! You see, Laura is a Muggle, and I couldn't very much go up to her and tell her that actually I had been the one to bear Timmy, and that I had conceived him with another man, let alone tell her who that man truly was, and why we truly weren't together._

_**September 26th 2003**_

_Today is the seventh anniversary of the battle that ended in victory, the one which ended the war, the one later to be called The Battle of Hogwarts. Today marks seven years since I disappeared. I still remember that day as if it was yesterday..._


	2. Chapter 1: Bleak

**Chapter 1: Bleak** (bleek)

_ Without __hope __or __encouragement; __depressing; __dreary; desolate._

_**September 26th 1996**_

He looked around him at the Hogwarts grounds which for the past few days had served as battlefield for their war. The grounds were littered with those dead or injured; he looked at the man, no monster, crumbling in front of him. The same man who killed his parents and some of his friends and caused many around England to lose their own. He felt no hatred towards him, he felt nothing but pity. This man might appear to be strong and unbeatable, but in truth he was nothing but a weak soul that suffered a lot due to his rage and hatred towards his parentage. He is Lord Voldemort, the man the Wizarding World fears the most, the man best known for his killing sprees, his destructive behaviour that are all supposedly due to his thirst for power, his hunger to rid the Wizarding World of those who are not pure, those with Muggle blood, the _mudbloods._

He looked down at this once feared man and realised, somewhere deep down even the dying man in front of him realised that this infamous behaviour of his, all those coldblooded murders, all those torture session, they are nothing but the lashing out of a vulnerable soul. Nothing but an insecure man's revenge against those who ridiculed him, those who ultimately caused his turn to the dark side. Muggles. Namely, one Tom Riddle Sr.

_**Two Days Earlier (September 24th 1996)**_

"Are you insane? What were you thinking following me in the forest Potter? Have you no brain? Oh wait! I forgot who I was talking to! Of course you weren't thinking, you are you after all..." Severus seemed to be calming down after that much needed outburst, but when a smile graced Harry's features, he lost it "what are you smiling for, pray tell Mr. Potter, I am curious as what is so funny about this situation that you can't help but smile." Harry's smile only widened in amusement at the man's agitation, which caused said man to take a grip of his shoulders and shake him while saying in no amused tone "you could have been killed, you spoiled, conceited, reckless brat, you just couldn't help it, could you? Had to be part of the action, didn't you? Got to accumulate all the fame and glory possible.."

He was stopped mid-rant by a sudden shove coming from the aforementioned conceited brat, which had him against the wall in what could only be called a sudden reverse of situations. It was quite ironic really. A boy, no man, so young and lithe out-manoeuvring and subduing him; he had trained him well. Said young man looked... blank, but there was a certain steely glint in his eyes that belied his anger. He truly had trained him well.

"Let me make this clear, and this is the last time I'm repeating myself. I. Am. Not. My. Father. He wasn't a bad man either, you are judging him based on his behaviour while you two still attended school, but why can't you think that he may have changed later on. He did give up his own life to give me, your friend, and my mother, who was once you best friend, a chance to escape. Why can't you consider what that says about him? About how much he changed following graduation? And we both know that I am no conceited brat, and that I do my best to escape the limelight, leaving us with one conclusion as to why I followed you into the forest looking through the brush at Voldemort's army. Why is it so difficult to believe that I actually care about, and respect you? After all, when I needed training you provided it almost immediately, and you tried your best to teach me everything you know, and more. All so I might have a chance to off that self-absorbed, narcissistic hypocrite! And during the past year since we started training I have come to call you a friend, and I know for a fact that so have you me. So Severus, why the accusations? Why the sudden animosity? What changed in the past few hours? I know you were worried but that doesn't warrant your attack on my character or my father's!" Harry finally stopped his tirade to take a deep breath.

He knew Severus did not enjoy being told what he did or did not feel, but to hell with it, that man needs to learn that people are there for him to rely on; they are there to listen when he wants to talk. So leaving in the dead of night just so he could sneak up on old Voldie without telling is something he should have at least informed others of his decision to undertake. Which of course, him being Severus Snape and all, he didn't. After a year you'd think he'd finally figured out that Harry suffers from insomnia due to old Voldie's penchant to sending him very nice dreams, one which include pain, blood, torture and several other despicable things that naturally take a sadist to appreciate.

Severus had calmed by now. It truly boggled his mind how a man so young could be so mature. How H smiled fondly. This boy with his Gryffindor bravery was going to be the death of him. But even though, he knew that what he said had truth behind it. They had come to know each other better in the past year and thus settled their differences. There was a sense of camaraderie between them that has been missing from Severus's life for a long time now. He knew that Harry openly called him a friend and he grudgingly, if not so openly, did the same. He knew that this friendship would lead to this. This caring thing. He hated how vulnerable it made him. He'd been having enough trouble saving Harry from inevitable death for the past seven years with only the knowledge of him as Lily's son, but now he knew for a fact that it was going to be harder, especially since he cared for the boy. After all, who would want to lose their only friend? The only person who did not shy away from him? The one person who thought his biting sense of sarcasm was actually funny? The one who demanded that there be no pretences of how he feels towards a certain endeavour they were undertaken during their spare time, not that they'd had much of that mind you!

Severus nodded in Harry's general direction indicating that he had heard what the younger man had said and was willing to give credence to it through his silence, not that he's ever admit to it. Ever!

The two lonesome figures had been standing just inside the gates of Hogwarts, and at the end of that conversation each turned and went his way; Severus to the dungeons and his lab, Harry to the astronomy tower and its terrace. They spent the rest of the night thinking about all they'd witnessed in the woods, and what had been said between them afterwards.

The following day brought on several attempted attacks on the Death Eaters part. The last of which finally enabled them to breach the last of Hogwarts' wards effectively gaining entry to the grounds and ability to attack its occupants. Occupants who seemed quite ready and alert, considering the sporadic attacks the castle had underwent during the day and the lateness of the hour, as it was past midnight. But still they all seemed to stand tall and steady, as if daring the Death Eaters to attack.

A moment of silence, pregnant with tension, anxiety and trepidation, passed over both parties. Tension that was naturally born from their conflicting views and sides, anxiety born out of fear of the outcome of this confrontation, and trepidation towards what was soon to take place. The moment passed and all hell broke loose, as the residents of Hogwarts and its unwelcomed guests, currently facing each other it's the grounds, broke into a flurry of motion, hexes and curses all trained in the general direction of the enemy. And so it continued till the next night, with a few breaks in between where the Death Eaters will fall back just long enough to regain some strength but not long enough for those inside Hogwarts to erect wards strong enough to repel the Death Eaters for long.. That was when one Lord Voldemort decided to grace all with his presence, and a confrontation between him and the Saviour of the Light ensued. A confrontation which halted all others; as all Wizards still standing after the long gruelling night and day of fighting stopped duelling with whomever it is they were trying to off at that moment, they all stopped to watch the duel between the hope of the light and the lord of the dark. The man who if he won rid their world of an evil so great that following his victory differentiation between wizards according the purity of their blood will most probably cease completely, and another who terrified all but the aforementioned young man and another older man believed to be quite senile with his ever twinkling blue eyes and easy smiles, a man who if he emerged victorious will enslave the Wizarding World to his whims, and most probably attempt to purge it from those with tainted blood.

After Voldemort's arrival, a few choice words were exchanged cementing their standpoints and informing the counterpart of their great esteem, the two rivals duelled. A duel they both knew only one of them would emerge from alive. Many harmful if not deadly curses were exchanged, with both sides incurring their share of injuries, but neither faltered until the moment when one man made an appearance.

Severus Snape had been confined inside the castle as to protect the children inside, but at some point, just before dawn, when all seemed to still on the outside. He became worried and felt the need to leave to investigate the sudden stillness. And this urge to move and investigate must have been quite overwhelming, as this is the only possible explanation him giving in to it thereby leaving the castle doors to look into the cause for the lack of activity on what were once fields of green and were now being used as a battlefield, because as all know Severus Snape had an iron grip control over his feelings, actions and impulses that only wavered in the presence of some resilient and unyielding power. He followed the eyes of the various Death Eaters and Order members and walked in the direction their eyes were trained, he sure hoped that the boy had held his own during the battle and hadn't died before he even dealt with Voldemort. No. He had more faith in the boy, he knew that Harry was a young and he acknowledged it but it would take him time to adjust to thinking of him as such, he had more faith in his training and abilities. When he finally reached his destination, Severus could not deny the pride that coursed through his body at seeing Harry quite proficiently duelling Lord Voldemort; shielding himself and sending his own share of hexes and curses that caused a not so insignificant amount of damage to Voldemort's body and most probably pride and vanity as well...

Just after Harry had thrown a seemingly powerful hex at Voldemort, the older man seemed to notice Severus standing there. He knew he hadn't summoned him; and even though Severus worked at the castle he hadn't believed that the younger man would make an appearance as he was neither summoned nor would he have wanted to jeopardise his status as spy among Dumbledore's ranks. But what surprised him more than Severus's sudden appearance at the battle was the look on his face. He had the most peculiar look on his face. It almost looked like he was proud of something, no not something, someone. Severus's eyes, filled with unvoiced pride, seemed to be trained on Potter. Severus was proud of the boy who was hailed as the cause of his impending demise. His favourite above all Death Eaters had betrayed him...

It took all but two seconds for the hex to hit Voldemort, but it didn't seem to affect him, as he remained staring, eyes filled with rage, at the man who dared betray him. Harry noticed the look in Voldemort's eyes that promised death to whoever was the recipient. He was curious as to who would be able to get Voldemort to forget about killing him, so he followed the direction of his gaze to one Severus Snape, who had for once lowered his guard, allowing his face to show some feelings. It took him all but two seconds to process the repercussions of Severus's momentary distraction, and he acted out of impulse shooting the Dark Lord with a killing curse in an effort to kill him before he got a grip on himself and killed Severus.

One thing lead to another and he was looking down at the man who the mere mention of his name had raised terror in the hearts of many a formidable wizards. He was thankful that he had been able to stop him; he didn't know what would've happened to him if he'd had to live with the guilt of yet another person dying because of him at the hands of Voldemort or one of his cronies. More importantly he didn't think he would've been able to continue knowing that he had been the reason for Severus's death as well.

The world seemed to be teetering in front of him. He lost his balance and fell on his knees week with relief. He felt the world blurring and fading away into darkness, and he allowed himself to fall victim to the powers of Morpheus just as the first rays of sun light broke through the darkness, signalling the beginning of a new day, a new reign and a new era in the history of the Wizarding World.

Severus saw the Boy-Who-Lived-Yet-Again succumbing to exhaustion and fall to the ground. His brain registered the need for action. So he carried said young man inside the castle to the hospital wing, where he surrendered him to a healer and Poppy Pomfrey's very capable attentions. Then he was dispatched to brew more potions to keep Poppy's supplies from diminishing. Considering the amount of casualties and injuries incurred on both sides he was going to have a long day.

Harry was left alone awaiting Poppy's ministrations, after being judged by a healer to be stable and out quite healthy and unharmed in exception to some cuts and bruises. Thus he was left to sleep off his physical, mental and magical exhaustion. But unbeknownst to all, and at some point during the day before Poppy arrived at Harry's side, a flash of blue light seemed to burst through the seclusion of Harry's bed and the privacy curtains surrounding it in the infirmary. Then mere seconds later, all evidence of the light diminished and Harry Potter was no more...


	3. Chapter 2: Pareidolia

**Chapter 2: Pareidolia** (ˌpæraɪˈdəʊlɪə)

_The imagined perception of a pattern or meaning where it does not actually exist._

_**November 15, 2002**_

_Merlin's beard! Harry Bloody Potter is on my bed. The boy is alive! Seven years have passed and now he returns. Where has he been? Why is he so battered? What could have possibly caused his magic to deplete to such a low level, such a dangerous level? And why the fuck did he look like he had not aged a day? That was so unfair!_

Severus Tobias Snape could not, not even to save his life, think of a time when his thoughts contained such profane terms. Or the last time he had been so gobsmacked. _Gobsmacked, what the he'll is wrong with me? _That is not of import but the reason for it is! His Harry, his best friend, his closest friend, one of the few people he had allowed to know his true thoughts, opened up to about his feelings was suddenly there before him, very much ALIVE! The shock of seeing Harry, alive, after so long, continued to plague him, but receded to the back of his mind allowing for confusion, hurt, betrayal and lastly anger to come to the forte...

He had allowed Harry bloody Potter into his life; he gifted him with friendship and gave him his trust. He should have known better. He should have known that the boy wouldn't appreciate it, they never did. The last time he'd allowed someone to enter his life, be of meaning to him, she had turned her back on him and chose his nemesis for a husband. That betrayal was the chief reason contributing into turning him into a bitter man, an unapproachable frosty bat, that is until a certain eleven year old bigoted brat came along, successfully flared his temper, lost him his composure and later on mellowed his frigid demeanor, though not many would agree on the latter. _The boy had successfully wormed his way into my life, established his presence there over the years as a consistent pain in the arse, and only when I had finally accepted his presence, function and the value he added to it, he upped and disappeared without a sign or farewell. _

Harry Potter was later on presumed dead, after all no one could find -it-all Granger hypothesized that the hurcrux that had lain with him had destroyed his body, made it decay slowly, after the killing curse was cast upon the boy, that was one explanation. But this explanation was discarded in favor of another. The most notorious explanation, which just happens to be the most accepted, is that Potter had simply given up after weathering a difficult life. He had been after all living under the strain of the expectation of the whole wizarding population, of at least the United Kingdom, and had been thrus into the role of Boy-Who-Lived at the mere age of eleven, the same year he was informed of his parents' true fate and the existence of magic. Then there was the burden of knowing the truth of his godfather's innocence and his incapability to prove it. But it was popularly posited, after people came to believe in the circumstances of Voldemorte's reincarnation, Pettigrew's betrayal and Sirius Black's innocence, that what broke that you man was his witnessing the death of a friend at the age of fourteen, and his godfather, the closest thing to a true family he had, at the age of fifteen. Added to all this, the boy probably couldn't take the tremendous pain he was suffering through, elicited from the numerous curses and hexes that had been sent in his direction during the battle, having the killing curse cast upon him twice in his short eighteen years in this world couldn't have helped. So it was the logical, and somewhat unanimous decision that Potter had broken down under all the stress, choosing to end his life as a means to stop his suffering. And as expected, the esteemed establishment, known as the Ministry of Magic, completely supported this explanation, attempting to undermine Potter's role in the war, trying their best to portray the Wizarding World's Savior as nothing short of a normal human being with no extraordinary abilities, one admittedly with weaknesses and faults that would make any 'normal', law abiding wizard appear as, what Muggles call, a saint. They even went so far as to attribute to him vices as to overcome his multiple virtues. Yet, many of the wizarding population chose to believe the Ministry, for one, they argued, the Ministry's explanation as completely logical, the other reason behind many people's belief in this explanation, _no Severus, I kept telling myself, try to give them the benefit of the doubt, they are not stupid sheep who follow whichever shepherd that comes around the bend_, can be very accurately attributed to the lack of belief in the presence of hurcruxes to begin with, not many who were not affiliated with the Dark Arts, and many of who were, could fathom the existence of such dark objects or the possibility that one would go so far as to break his own soul into parts as to ensure his survival in case he somehow met an untimely demise, by his calculations of course.

But all those claims and explanations did meant nothing, not with Potter lying there in his room, on his bed, clearly alive, even if barely. He couldn't help but think that the boy had abandoned him, just like his mother had done years before him. But why? He could understand why Lily had done it, even though he didn't justify her betrayal, but he had forgiven her years ago, and lived his life trying to atone the injury he had inadvertently, though unknowingly, caused her. She had been his best friend, his only friend, always trying to help and protect him from that same man she ended up leaving him for. He knew he was much at fault as well. He hadn't taken too kindly to Lily's relationship with that bigoted Gryffindor fool. But Harry? He found no reason for the boy to abandon him in such a way, at least not anything he could understand. He had thought the boy content with their friendship, that he had enjoyed the camaraderie they had shared as Severus had done, for he has seemed to genuinely like spending time with Severus.

Come to think of it, the only logical explanation as to why the boy would abandon him in such a way was that the boy was using him, befriending him like many others had done simply to exploit his knowledge and many talents. _But no... What if Potter had never meant to leave me...?_ _**No he would have left a note in such a case.**_ _But if he had truly meant to abandon him, then why return? And why now? _Severus was starting to get a headache caused by the disarray of his thoughts and the constant arguments he was conducting with none other than himself since he had found the boy at his doorstep, covered in blood and bearing injuries beyond what anyone could imagine humanly possible to survive. He had been, and still was, so confused, but he shouldn't have been so surprised. The boy never failed to surprise or confuse him, or generally get under his skin no matter what he did in the past, so why would that change so many years later, and the fact that he was unconscious wouldn't pause any hindrance to boy wonder...

When he finally got his bearings together, he checked on the boy one last time, put up a spell that will inform him whenever Potter woke up. He then headed to his study where he took out a book he had been reading earlier that day, and lay down on his extremely comfortable sofa, attempting to relax after what felt like an extremely long, exhausting day. He lay down attempting to get comfortable for what promised to be an even longer and more exhausting night.


	4. Timeline

Dates you might want to know, and may aid your understanding of the story so far. I would give you more, but that would just beat the point of writing the story because it would be basically tell you all the important key points, and we wouldn't want that happening now, would we? And now I'm rambling, so without further delay here goes...

**_Timeline_**

**January 30th 1960** _Lily Evans is Born_

**March 27th 1960**_ James Potter is Born_

**January 9th 1963** _Severus Tobias Snape is Born._

**July 31st 1978** _Harry James Potter is Born._

**Sometime 1995** _Harry and Severus Become Friends._

**September 24th 1996** _Voldemort Attacks Hogwarts._

**September 26th 1996** _Final Battle Ends/Harry Disappears._

**November 15th 2002** _Harry Arrives in Future._

I added Lily and James's birth dates because it has come to my attention that simply changing Severus's birth date does not mean that Lily is older than him.

One more thing I forgot to mention that I edited the Porologue a bit so you might want to reread that if you hadn't done so already.


End file.
